


Evolution

by jessahmewren



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dancing, F/M, Lingerie, MSR, Post-Episode: s11e07 Rm9sbG93ZXJz, Reconciliation, Romance, Smut, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Unremarkable house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: Scully let her head drop against his shoulder, relishing in the solid feel of him against her.  As if accepting the weight, his whole body seemed to relax.“I do have some regrets of late though.”Scully’s shoulder’s stiffened slightly, but she did not turn to look at him.  “Regrets?” She sipped the beer again.Mulder’s large right hand had found its way down from the back of the couch and ran along her arm, where it was rubbing a lazy trail.  “I never took you on a proper date, for one thing.”





	1. Chapter 1

-0-0-0-

Scully sat in the passenger seat of Mulder’s Ford Mustang and watched the rain pat against the blank canvas of the pale blue afternoon sky.  She looked down at the magnetic key card in her hand, a hotel room key the FBI had given her.  She turned it over in her hand absently, trying not to think.  Tomorrow there would be insurance adjustors and clean-up crews and cardboard boxes to pack up whatever was salvageable of her current life.  Today, there was Mulder. 

“Turn here,” she said quietly, diverting him from his planned route.  “Take me to the house.” 

Mulder’s jaw clenched before he smiled tightly at her.  She wondered what had just gone through his mind, but then she probably knew.  It was a memory of the time before…before there was a house of her own to blow up. 

It was nice not to have the sterile, mechanical voice of A.I. navigation disturbing the quiet.  Her phone was turned off in her back pocket.  Besides, Scully would’ve been able to find her way back to that little white house blindfolded in a sandstorm.

The house was just as she remembered it when she was there last, a little over a three weeks ago.  Without a word, she sank down heavily on the couch and began kicking off her boots while Mulder fetched them beers from the fridge.  They clinked the necks of the bottles and both took a swig. 

“What did we both toast,” Scully asked him after a few sips.  Her feet were up, but the TV remained blessedly off. 

Mulder looked at her, pensive, and then smiled.  “Us.  Today.” 

She took another swig of beer and let him continue. 

“We made it through another one, Scully.  I mean, when you stop and think what we’ve been through, what the Universe has thrown at us and all that we’ve seen…well, I’ve never been one to believe in miracles but it’s as damn near one as you can come that we’re sitting on this couch right now in one piece.” 

She smiled at him.  Mulder never ceased to surprise her.  “Maybe it’s just meant to be,” she said. 

Scully let her head drop against his shoulder, relishing in the solid feel of him against her.  As if accepting the weight, his whole body seemed to relax.

“I do have some regrets of late though.” 

Scully’s shoulder’s stiffened slightly, but she did not turn to look at him.  “Regrets?” She sipped the beer again. 

Mulder’s large right hand had found its way down from the back of the couch and ran along her arm, where it was rubbing a lazy trail.  “I never took you on a proper date, for one thing.” 

She smiled and I looked up at him.  “Not true,” she protested.  “We had sushi.  And then the diner.” 

Mulder made a face.  “Oh come on,” he said, exaggerating the last syllable in exaggeration.  The large hand had settled at her waist, and she hadn’t minded. 

“The diner, I’ll give you.  But the sushi place tried to kill us, Scully.  Not to mention it was stark as a tomb in there.  There was no ambience.”  Scully grinned as he waved his hand in the air like a French waiter describing the menu.  “And I didn’t even get to eat.”  He looked at her meaningfully.  “Blobfish, Scully.  Blobfish.” 

She let out a peel of laughter that rang through the house, and if it hadn’t been for their unspoken no cell phone policy tonight, she would have gotten out her phone just to see that picture again of Mulder with his dinner, looking somewhat dejected but still adorable. 

Mulder was watching her with mirth.  “Live it up Scully, but I’m going to see that fish in my dreams for weeks.”  Then, as if his retelling of their living nightmare wasn’t enough, Mulder poked out his lips and bugged his eyes in his best impression of the hapless fish, causing another explosion of laughter from Scully. 

When she had caught her breath, he was still looking at her, his eyes shining. He took a swig from his beer and smiled.  She was beatific in that moment…the angle of her new haircut falling in a sharp angle to frame her face.  “What is it, she asked?” 

“It’s so good to hear you laugh,” he said.  “It’s still one of my favorite sounds.” 

She smiled.  “Right up there with the rain on this roof and bacon frying?” 

He gave a half nod.  “Those are three and two.” 

She pressed her lips together, and they were silent. 

She cleared her throat after a few moments.  “So um, what would we do on this proper date Mulder?” 

He took his long legs down from where he had stretched them out on the coffee table beside hers.  “Oh, you know.  The usual.  Dinner, dancing, then we might—“

“Wait, did you say _dancing_?”

Mulder looked wounded.  “I can cut a rug or two, Scully.” 

“With a machete,” she deadpanned.

“Dana Scully how do you know I can’t dance?”

She thought about it.  Truthfully, she didn’t know Mulder couldn’t dance.  He had grown up in New England high society.  She could see a young hunk Mulder entertaining the young socialites with his knowledge of ballroom dancing.  But then the Mulder she knew was so gangly.  She couldn’t imagine him having anything but two left feet.  She decided to hedge her bet. 

“Well for one, you’ve never asked me,” she said.

That stung, but yet again, the truth always did.  He set his beer down on the coffee table and stood with his hand outstretched.  “There’s no time like the present, Scully.  Would you do me the honor of this dance?”

She stared up at him in near-horror.  “Mulder, you cannot be serious.”

He grinned wryly with one arm behind his back.  “I’m as serious as I’ll ever be.  Come on Scully.  The night isn’t getting any younger.” 

She blew out a breath, and then smiled at him.  “Who is watching the clock?”

“Valid point Ms. Scully.”  He bowed deeply as she took his hand.

She narrowed her eyes.  “Mulder, I don’t know how, and you don’t have any music.” 

She felt like a drowning man, her excuses like flailing arms in the waters of her own fear.  But what exactly was she afraid of? 

“Ah,” he said knowingly.  “I do have music.”  He ran over to the corner to fuss with something, and in a few moments, the slap and scratch of a vinyl record scruffed to life in the quiet of the living room. 

“Remember when you gave me that last Christmas Scully?  I bet you thought I’d never use it.  But I use it all the time.” 

She did remember, smiling.  Scully canted her head slightly as the song, plaintive and beautiful, swelled over the room. 

He locked eyes with her, addressing her last concern.  “And I’ll teach you, Scully.  I’ll teach you the tango.  Tonight.  Whadya say?”

She swallowed.  He was so sincere it was impossible to argue with him, and she wouldn’t want to anyway.

"Otis Redding?" she said instead.  She favored him with a small smile.  "That's a strange choice for a tango."  He was walking toward her now, a slow and steady advance like an approaching storm.  She worried her lower lip. 

"There's nothing strange about it," he said casually, as the baleful notes of “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” started floating over the room.  He stopped just in front of her.  If she leaned forward a few inches, she would catch the shimmering heat from his body.

"It's not the music that matters in the tango, Scully."  His eyes flitted over her, stopping at her breasts.  They lingered there, and he licked his lips.  "It's the movement," he finished.

She swallowed hard.  There was a noticeable change in him, and she welcomed it.  She felt stupidly nervous as she held her arms up as if in the manner of a proper waltz, and he smiled.  He took her hand, looking at it for a moment as it was some rare thing, something to be marveled at, and then slipped his other arm around her and pulled her close.

"Sorry Scully," Mulder said in a low rumble, "but the tango requires partners to be closer than in the waltz."  He angled his head closer to her so his mouth was at her ear. “We’re gonna have to cozy up.”

Scully nodded her head tightly, managing only a thin "mm hm" that did not sound like her natural voice.  "Follow me," he intoned quietly, holding her firmly so that he created a space of about an inch between their bodies.  "When I step forward, you step back.  Easy enough?" 

"Sounds easy enough," she breathed.  She paused; a tremor of nerves went through her arms before disappearing nearly as quickly.  She looked up at him.  "I'm not that great of a follower."  She smiled then, a prim quirk of her mouth, and Mulder's eyes softened.  "Well, that makes two of us," he said with a smile.  And it was true.  Their partnership had always been just that…equal.  No leaders, no followers. 

They danced, slowly at first, because Scully needed coaching, stopping and starting many times.  "Here," Mulder said with a corrective touch behind her, just below the waistband of her pants, "put a little more spring in your knees, and arch your back." 

She complied, retreating as Mulder advanced.  "Slow, slow, quick, quick slow," he chanted in her ear until he had ascertained that she had gained enough confidence for him to stop, for him to simply lead by the push of his body, by the momentum of his feet.  Their legs whispered against each other, their bodies fused and comfortably one. 

"On the last step, pull your leg in," he said quietly, "but only touch your knees.  Leave your feet apart." 

She looked down long enough to see if she was doing it right, and Mulder broke their hold.  "Don't look down," he chided mildly, "and don't look at me."  He tipped her chin with the lightest touch of his fingers.  "Look over my shoulder." 

Scully met his gaze.  His eyes flamed briefly with a familiar fire, and she was drawn to them.  He looked coiled, confident, and ready to spring on her.  Mulder may have an air of unpredictability, but one of the many things about him that was an unquestionable constant was that he unfailingly made her feel wanted…even cherished. 

Mulder moved them through a series of turns, as much as the room would allow.  Scully kept up with him, moving back as he moved forward, dutifully pulling her leg to a closed position, and then again.  It became easier, like breathing, and she felt her body relax into the steps.  Being in his arms was as familiar as a memory, moving when he moved,  _inhale_ … _exhale_ , and start again.  Theirs was a natural and imperfect tango that tested and teased until they moved in a practiced rhythm, an easy simpatico that would’ve revealed to the most casual viewer that these two people, this man and woman, belonged at each other’s side, that they had always belonged there. 

On the last step Mulder grabbed her thigh, lifting her leg as it bent at the knee and pulled it flush with his. Scully cried out in surprise, then smiled as her eyes met his.  He leaned forward, easing her into a low dip.  His hand went up between her shoulders, supporting her weight, and he hitched her leg up even higher so that it was flush with his waist; Scully could feel his body pressing between her legs, solid and warm.  His hand lingered on her hip, applying firm pressure but nothing more before righting her again.

Scully was breathless, both lightheaded from coming up too fast and from the sheer proximity to Mulder.  "We didn't practice that," she said weakly, working discretely to catch her breath.

Mulder chuckled heartily, pulling her even closer than before.  “The tango is allowed to evolve Scully," he said rather sultrily in her ear. “Sort of like technology.” 

A full warmth settled low in her belly.  It began to unwind and disperse itself to other parts of her body, spreading like wildfire with every beat of her heart. 

She wanted him.

It was a feeling of late that, because of the confusion of their relationship, had a habit of slipping into a sort of latent dormancy.  She hadn’t realized it before, when she was alone with her thoughts in the car, or even when she had grabbed his hand in the diner, but she recognized it now, the wanton ache for someone--body, mind, and soul. 

She tightened her arm around him.  “Hasn’t technology’s evolution gotten out of hand," she asked as they resumed the dance.

Mulder turned them again. "Oh you tell me," he said rather enigmatically. “You might say that about the ape, but we’re doing alright.”  Scully looked at him for a moment, and her face grew warm with pleasure.  She smiled.

“Not the same thing,” she said, missing a step, “and also, debatable.” 

Mulder nosed her hair.  Behind them, the record spun static into the quiet of the house.  “I wouldn’t mind getting out of hand with you, Dana Scully.”

Scully pressed her body against him, breaking their hold.  She saw his eyes widen in surprise, then darken.  She claimed his lips first, and they were soft, full and meant to be kissed; why she had stopped doing it every day she really couldn't fathom.  She pressed further into the heat of his mouth and he moaned, a small unbidden sound that vibrated into their fused bodies, quickening her desire.  Mulder finally moved and reached to embrace her, but his touch was far too delicate even to her heightened awareness.  He returned the kiss but then withdrew, the hands at her upper arms pushing her away slightly so he could see her face. 

Mulder locked eyes with her, the tension now palpable between them.  He caught the pad of her thumb where it rested on his lips and pulled it between his teeth, applying enough pressure to make her flinch. Then, he pressed her palm to his mouth and placed an open-mouthed kiss there. 

"Every time I kiss you is like the first time," he said sultrily.  "Like the first time I kissed you in that dusty basement office.”  He paused, kissing her palm.  “You were standing there in that patch of sunlight looking over a case file and I just fucking went for it.  I knew then I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”  He started to laugh, caught up in the memory.  His voice was rich and resonated in those hollow spaces within her that had long been empty, the ones that had only been partially filled with idle, uninteresting men who had not been Mulder…who could never be Mulder.  He was looking at her from half lids, his mouth working his way down her wrist. 

She abruptly snatched her hand away and favored him with a warm smile.  "Even after I slapped you," she asked wryly. 

He reached up and grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements.  "Especially after that."  He let his eyes move down the length of her body, appreciating the lines and curves betrayed by her new affinity for casual clothes.  His gaze lingered awhile on her breasts, on the soft swell beneath the soft cotton shirt.  "I like a challenge." 

She laughed, and he pulled her closer to him, kissing her roughly.  His hand was on the back of her neck, the other at her waist.  This was not the delicate embrace of before; she could feel the firm pressure of his body crushing into hers, mooring her into place.  She moaned, a soft and throaty sound that stoked his desire.  A flash of heat seared her body, mingling with the steady ache between her legs.  She twisted against him as much as he allowed, but Mulder had a firm hold on her.  Instead, she moved her hands beneath his jacket, her fingers gripping his grey t-shirt, the fabric warm from his skin.  

When he finally released her, both of them were breathless. Mulder looked at her where she stood before him, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.  He had never wanted anyone more. 

-0-0-0-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled her down to him so she was lying on his chest, needing to feel her against him. He kissed the top of her head, his arms wrapping around her, and he could feel as well as hear her soft sigh against him. Suddenly the memories of hundreds of nights lying in this bed just like this came rushing back to him, and the power of them stung his eyes. 
> 
> Not now, not like this.

-0-0-0-

"Scully,” he said quietly, gently kneading the hooded jacket at her shoulders.  “I wanna get you out of this.” His hand slipped under the fabric and began pushing it from her shoulders, but she shirked away from him.  Scully was working her mouth thoughtfully, one hand on her hip. 

"You may have started this dance Mulder, but it’s my turn to lead.” She stepped into his space, trailing a hand down the front of his shirt. She stopped at his belt.  "Don't you think?" She was looking at him knowingly, and then her mouth curved into a lazy smile.  She let her fingers trail just below his belt, briefly appreciating the girth there. 

He flinched, swallowing hard.  "That seems only fair," he managed tightly.

She nodded, moving even closer to him. She never removed her hand from him, rather she joined it with the other and slowly moved up his abdomen, reveling in the topography of his chest, the pectoral muscles to the broad shoulders and strong arms.  She pushed the hooded jacket back and away.  His skin flexed and quivered beneath her fingers, and a little hiss escaped his lips as she moved closer to his face.

"Here's a tip for you Mulder," she said silkily as she bent to mouth his taut brown neck.  "Less is more."  She finished taking off the jacket and let her hands slide down to cup his ass. She tossed the jacket unceremoniously across the living room where it landed somewhere near where the record player still hissed.  Mulder’s eyes widened in surprise. 

Scully was walking around him now, maintaining close proximity to his ear; he could feel the warmth of her breath on his bare skin.  She was behind him, taking her time as she moved her hands down his back to the waistband of his pants. She began tugging at his t-shirt.

Abruptly he turned, grabbing her by both arms.  She was breathing heavily; the shirt beneath her jacket stirred a little with the rise and fall of her chest.  He needed to see more of it. 

"This tango is a little one-sided, don't you think?"  He was staring at her mouth, and he licked his lips.

"Ladies first," she said sweetly, and moved to lift the hem of his shirt, but he stopped her.  "Oh, I intend on honoring that," he said seriously, "but it's my turn now." 

She thrilled at his words, the blood coursing through her veins.  He moved a tendril of hair away from her face, exposing the sensitive skin to the cool air.   Mulder blew on it, stirring the wisps that fell around her face.  She closed her eyes.  His arm snaked around her back, holding her tightly.  He closed his mouth on the sensitive skin just below her ear.

Scully gasped, silently cursing herself for her lack of control, but in some part of her mind not caring at all.  He applied a little suction there, humming appreciatively, and she could feel the light stubble there scrub against her skin, and his hot mouth, and it was nearly more than she could bear.  Her hands flexed against him, tightening their grip.  She moaned a little through her teeth and let her head fall to the side, giving him greater access. 

The little sounds she was making, the little purrs and moans and tiny hitches, were making it hard for him to concentrate.  He wanted her, but he also wanted to savor every moment, every part of Dana Scully he'd missed out on all these months. From the looks of things, from the feel of her body against his and the taste of her, he'd missed out on quite a lot.

"Mmm," Mulder murmured against her skin.  "You smell like hyacinths and sex."  He nosed her ear.  "God," he whispered, and had he believed in one it might have been a prayer.  Before withdrawing, he couldn't resist trying to coax one more of those sounds from her.  He pulled the lobe of her ear between his lips and then caught it with his teeth. 

She gasped, a sharp, throaty sound that went right to his groin, and her eyes opened in surprised.  He released her then, studying her face.  Dark pupils rimmed in deep blue, her breath coming in little pants through slightly parted lips. 

His hands fell to her shoulders, shaking a little as he hastily rid the jacket as well as the shirt underneath.  Once removed, he appreciated the ivory skin, the ample breasts framed by black lace, rising and falling with every rapid breath.  That was a surprise, he thought.  The little lace thing.  He traced her side and over her abdomen, his hands sliding easily over black silk, a camisole of some sort.  He reached the juncture of her breasts and he stopped.  He licked his lips before covering both breasts with his hands. 

He groaned, which he had not expected, and she arched into his hands, her nipples hard.  She wasn't wearing a bra, only the camisole, and the silk against his hands, the weight of her breasts did nothing to slate his thirst for her.  He caressed them gently, testing their weight before pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Scully cried out, but he caught her mouth with his before she could make another sound.  She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him, grinding her hips into his with every rhythmic thrust of his tongue.  Though she'd lost all coherent thought long ago, one realization seeped into her consciousness amid the haze of desire: she was dangerously close to the edge and she was still fully clothed.

Mulder pulled at the camisole, but it wouldn't budge.  She withdrew, shaking her head as much to clear it as to find the words.  "It's one thing," she managed, and there was a slight tremor in her voice.  He only nodded, going to his knees to work the button on her pants. 

He slid them down over her hips, letting his fingers trail along the firm skin there.  Indeed it was one piece, a black silk teddy with a bias cut that struck just above the delicious curve of her ass.  He was on his knees and looking up at her reverently, caressing her calves, her thighs, and moving upward.  He slipped his finger under the edge of the teddy and pressed his face between her legs.

"Mulder," she breathed, rocking onto the balls of her feet.  Her hands dropped to his head, running her fingers through his thick brown hair.  "Take me to bed." 

Scully stepped out of her pants and Mulder stood, kissing his way up her abdomen, between her breasts, and finally her mouth.  In one fluid motion he lifted her, and she wound her legs around him as she pressed her sex into the cool metal of his belt buckle.  He carried her upstairs to their bedroom and dropped her heavily onto the mattress where he settled on top of her. 

"No," she breathed.   He was working on her neck again and had one strap of the teddy under his fingers and was bringing it down.  "It's my turn."  She flipped him then, just as she'd learned in defense training, and settled on his lap. 

His face was flushed, his eyes wide and expectant.  She perched on the swell of his sex and began working his shirt over his head.  "Your part of this dance took entirely too long," she said simply.  She pushed on his chest with the tips of her fingers, keeping him down. 

He watched her work; his hands went across the bed and up her thighs to settle at her waist.  He gave her a light squeeze, and she twisted her hips against him. The motion elicited a low groan from Mulder, and he closed his eyes for a moment.  Her mouth twitched into a wicked smile. 

Scully had freed the grey t-shirt and tossed it behind her where it landed at the foot of the bed.  She sat astride him, her back straight but relaxed as Mulder's hands made slow circles from her lower back down to her buttocks.  She watched his face and he seemed fascinated, almost entranced as she sat atop him.  For a moment she simply appreciated him, leaning forward with her hands on either side of his arms to study the fine dark hair, the well-defined pectoral muscles that blended seamlessly into strong shoulders and arms.  She moved her hands up the smooth plane of his chest, threading the fine hair between her fingers. 

"Mmm," she said seductively.  "Who needs dinner?"  She bent over and placed an open-mouthed kiss just over his heart.

"Scully," he murmured softly.  Indeed his Scully was a number of unnamed wonders that left her perfectly unclassifiable in every way but one: She was his. 

He pulled her down to him so she was lying on his chest, needing to feel her against him.  He kissed the top of her head, his arms wrapping around her, and he could feel as well as hear her soft sigh against him.  Suddenly the memories of hundreds of nights lying in this bed just like this came rushing back to him, and the power of them stung his eyes.   

Not now, not like this.  He grabbed her at the waist, lifting her up and closer to him.  He settled her roughly onto the bed beside him and sat up so their faces were almost even.  His eyes roved restlessly over her body, over the black silk that hugged her closely.  "This is truly lovely," he said, lifting the strap of her teddy with one finger, "but it has to go."  He let the strap fall, kissing the spot where it once resided, and then kissed her lips.  It suddenly dawned on him that even though they were not unknown to each other, this all felt all felt so blessedly new and somehow sacred. 

The black silk relented but only slipped down as far as the tops of her breasts.  Scully shrugged her arms out of the straps, threading her hands through his short hair and around the back of his neck to give it a little tug.  She looked up at him hungrily through half-lidded eyes, their usual aquamarine a deep sapphire.  "Kiss me Mulder," she said sultrily.  Her lips parted expectantly, and Mulder moved in close as if to kiss her, but his mouth settled on her ear instead.  "Lie back," he said, and she could feel him smile against her. 

She huffed but did as he asked, moving to the side of him and lying prone.  Mulder inclined next to her, his hand settling on her abdomen.  For a moment he seemed content to look at her this way, his fingers splayed across the black silk, the skin beneath it warm even through the fabric.  He moved his hand in a meandering path up her body, dragging his hand across the silk and then gently tugging the fabric downwards, over her breasts, then her hips, and finally over the smooth calves until it lay in a pool of soft darkness on the floor. 

Scully lay before him, legs and curves and flawless skin, her complexion a stark contrast to the auburn hair (somewhat golden in the warm light) that fanned around her head in delicate wisps.  "So beautiful," he murmured, though he was scarcely aware he'd said anything.  The way he was looking at her--ravenous, possessive--made her ache for him even more.

Mulder touched her thigh with the back of his hand and leaned in close, encouraged by the warmth he found there.  He followed the line of her body to the beautiful arc of her waist and up to her breasts.  He stopped, stymied for a moment by the lovely symmetry of each and how every inch of her was perfectly unique and simply  _right_ as if he was seeing her body for the first time. 

“Get up,” he commanded gently.  His voice was thick.  His hands were on her waist, and he could feel the gooseflesh there under the pads of his fingers.  Mulder helped her to a sitting position and then pulled her on top of him.

Scully laughed, caught off guard by the sudden movement, and Mulder cherished the sound.  Rich and warm, her laughter unknotted something within him like tension releasing on a frayed rope.  He buried his face in her neck, content to dwell in that feeling for as long as he could, and inhaled. 

She was straddling his bare chest, relishing in the sensation of his warm skin against hers.  Mulder was leaning back on a pillow, looking at her with barely veiled admiration.  His hands were on her thighs. 

"On your knees," he said quietly.  His voice held a note of gentle authority. 

She looked at him curiously, worrying her lower lip.  He locked eyes with her, grinning wickedly before boosting her up onto her knees.  She had to grab the headboard for balance, and he lay under her.  Her legs trembled both from anticipation and physical need, and she had to will them still.

“Mulder…” she began thinly, but she never finished.  His hands were on her, smoothing her buttocks with gentle pressure and then holding her steady.  They floated around to her abdomen, grazing the taut flesh there, exploring her body with a sort of reverence and wonder.  Finally, his hand went lower, fingers brushing the mound of soft curls that hovered inches from his face.  She could feel his hot breath on the inside of her thighs, and then the faint stubble there as he rested his cheek against her leg.  Her eyes slipped closed, and she made a little sound between her teeth.

She began moving her head from side to side, quite unsure of what she was refusing, or if she was refusing.  Thoughts came with difficulty or not at all.  She tightened her grip on the headboard, seeing spots behind her eyelids.

Mulder was looking up at her, and he smiled.  “Have you spent so much time with your little pink egg that you’ve forgotten Scully,” he said with a low rumble.  “How could I not?  You’re positively glistening.” 

Then his mouth closed on her, and she moaned. 

Mulder lathed her core in achingly slow passes of his tongue, driving her to the very point of oblivion, then varying his touch in both speed and intensity.  She instinctively rocked her hips into him, as unable to thwart the movement as she was unable to stifle the sounds coming unbidden from her mouth.  He had his hand on her, holding her roughly, and she could hear him grunt against her.  She gasped his name, feeling her body quicken.  She bit her lip.

He stopped suddenly, breathing heavily against her inner thigh.  Scully made a little disappointed sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and looked down at him.  "Do you want it like this," he said roughly. He was looking at up at her, and he suddenly looked unhinged, an untamed thing.  She could tell he was close and she hadn't even touched him. 

The thought of it made her burn with passion, and her vision blurred a little.  She wanted him... _all of him_.  She blinked.  "No," she said a little shakily.  "I want you inside me.  Let me down Mulder." 

He set her down roughly on the bed.  With trembling fingers she fumbled with his belt.  He was engorged, straining against the fabric, and she couldn't help but think that it was all for her. 

He stood, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes, and settled on top of her. 

She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips.  She moaned into his mouth as her body finally came into contact with his warm skin, the smooth length of him bobbing just over her abdomen.  She reached down between them, moistening her fingers in her sex and then wrapping her hand around him. 

He groaned, thrusting once into her hand as he buried his face into her neck.  She smiled, tracing the hot length of him from base to tip.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want this to end earlier than it’s supposed to," he said with effort.  He grabbed the exploring hand and joined it with the other, pulling them both over her head.  He held them there, his thumb at her wrist.

He swallowed, momentarily stunned by her sparkling eyes glittering in their deep blue sets and her swollen mouth.  He locked eyes with her.  "I want you, Scully,” he said softly.  “All of you."  With that, he ducked his head and closed his lips over one of her breasts.

"Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth.  She arched into him, finally working a leg over his lower back, trying not to concentrate on his mouth, on the steady ache between her legs, or on the welts on her skin that would most surely be there in the morning. 

"Mulder," she said tightly.  She was nearly panting and very close to the edge.  "Now." 

He stopped, looking at up at her with his standard intensity, and then he smiled.  He braced himself and eased into her as his teeth closed over her collarbone. 

She hissed through her teeth, instantly reacting to the feel of him inside her, the fullness that felt so inexplicably right, so familiar.  For a few seconds neither of them moved.  She felt her body contract and relax, accommodating him.  She worked her hands free and grabbed his ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

He began to move against her in long, smooth strokes, and she angled her hips into him, matching the rhythm.  She had one leg bent and between them, and Mulder angled his head enough to place a gentle kiss in the crook of her knee.

She began to move faster and Mulder followed accordingly, almost withdrawing completely before driving into her again.  She arched into the pillow, moaning as her breaths came in little hitches and heat began to fill her vision.  Mulder blinked, unfocused, his rhythm ragged.  He kissed her hotly, his tongue probing the depths of her mouth as he ravished her body.  He reached down between them and placed a flat thumb against her core, and he felt her tighten around him.    

It was all it took.  Scully held onto him, feeling her release, a crescendo of pleasure building to a perfect completion and then finally cresting, nearly ripping her in half.  A strangled cry escaped her lips, a guttural and inhuman sound, and she realized from somewhere far away that it was some semblance of Mulder’s name. 

He watched her come, her face transforming in shadow and shade, like the sun rising over a sparkling field of snow.  She was beautiful, and he wanted to remember her like this (no, to see her like this) for the rest of his life. 

He let himself go, thrusting a few more times before crying out in his own release.  She held on to him as he rode it out, her hands drifting over the taut muscles of his back, digging her nails in and relishing how sore she would be in the morning.  He pressed his lips to her forehead and sagged against her. 

They lay entangled, still joined and breathing heavily.  Mulder pulled her close, his arms trembling a bit from exertion and simply enjoying the feel of her body against his, the weight of her in his arms.  He trailed some lazy kisses down the line of her jaw, and she smiled. 

"That was--" he began.

"Fun."  She laughed softly and dropped her head to his shoulder.  "Dinner and dancing," she finished, kissing him lightly on the neck.

He moved his hands down her back, and she shifted under his touch.  "I’m going to have to take you out more often."  His eyes sparkled with humor.

She laughed, tightening her arms around him.  She kissed him fully, taking her time.  "Absolutely," she mumbled into the corner of his mouth, and he smiled. 

-0-0-0-


End file.
